The Sun Rising
by Your Angel of Music
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to blame the sun for stealing your lover – easier than accepting that he leaves of his own volition every morning. Just a short piece of Pre-Wedding Christian/Syed angst, set to the tune of a John Donne sonnet.


**Title:** The Sun Rising**  
Characters/Pairings:** Christian Clarke/Syed Masood**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Sometimes it's easier to blame the sun for stealing your lover – easier than accepting that he leaves of his own volition every morning.

**A/N:** I'm either an incredibly blasphemous English student for doing this, or an incredibly dedicated one. Either way, I read the sonnet 'The Sun Rising' by John Donne and immediately had to use it for these two. I've quoted a few of the more relevant lines, but I would recommend giving this one a read. It's gorgeous (the sonnet, not this fiction).

* * *

**The Sun Rising**

'_Why dos thou thus, _

_Through windows, and through curtains call on us?_

_Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?'_

These days, Christian always woke up before the sun came up.

He'd never been an early riser; even on those days when he _had_ to get up before noon, he'd always make sure that there was a ray of sunshine creeping through the curtains. It had always been a struggle to drag himself out of bed if he couldn't hear the chirruping of birds outside his window. He rarely did it, and, even if he had to, he'd make damned sure that he stayed wrapped up in his duvet for as long as possible.

It's amazing how things changed with the passing of time.

It was still dark when he woke up. The blackness wrapped around him like a old cotton blanket; smothering, oppressive, uncomfortable in that scratchy way and, yet, at the same time somehow deeply and inexplicably comforting.

He rolled over gently, careful not to disturb the sheets that covered him as he moved. There was the gentle sound of breathing beside him; the only other noise in the room aside from his own heartbeat. Christian could hear it ringing through the air as he finally stretched out onto his back, his head lolling to the side so that he could run his eyes over the steady movement of the chest beside him.

It took a damned sight more restraint than it should have taken to stop him from reaching out and resting his hand on the gently thrumming skin. Every single nerve ending screamed out to do just that – just to have his palm pressed down lightly on that chest, to feel the soft curl of chest hair between his fingers or to run his knuckles across the coarsely stubbled cheeks. It was all a familiar feeling – skin, flesh, hair – but one that still seemed new every single time.

Christian managed to catch his hand just as it hovered over its prize - a few millimetres away from making contact with the source of the heat that seemed to soak the bed sheets. He knew exactly _why_ it felt new every single time: the prospect of something happening for the last time tended to heighten the experience.

Sitting up abruptly, he swung his legs out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He took hold of the dressing gown hanging on the door, wrapping it swiftly around himself before he made his way back into the living room. After a few moments of hushed, steady movements, he ended up where he usually ended up on mornings like these: wrapped tightly in the dressing gown and perched on the edge of the chair he had just dragged to the side of the bed. His arms curled inside the thick material, pulling it closer around him as he shifted slightly on his seat, his eyes fixed on the quietly snoring figure on the bed.

There was a huge part of him that wanted to just lay there; to curl his fingers in the duvet and burrow into the heat that was emanating from the body next to him. But the deeper, practical side of him knew that that was impossible. The closer he was, the greater the urge was to touch – and if he touched, he knew that would be one step away from waking the man up.

Syed always left after waking up. And Christian determined, every morning, to make these moments last as long as possible. That was why he had started waking up so early; his body clock subconsciously shifting to fit in with his heart.

He managed to suppress a snort as that last thought flitted through his mind, his hand coming up to rub against his lips as Syed shifted in his sleep. As much as he tried to dismiss it, it was hard to deny. Unlike some people - and Christian could hear the bitterness in his own thought processes - he'd never been one to run away from his emotions. He had to acknowledge that he'd fallen. He'd fallen _hard_. It was a stark reminder of something that he'd somehow managed to forget.

Love _hurt_.

His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, pressing down hard against the skin as he heard Syed snuffling in his sleep. It would have been cute – if everything didn't _hurt_ so much.

A sliver of light began to creep its way across the floor, inching ever closer to the chair where Christian was sat. He frowned, shifting his foot out of the glare as if it would burn him. A very large part of him wanted to hold back the creeping rays, to lurch up and beg the sun to just hold off for another few minutes. _Another few minutes_. That was all he wanted. Just a few more. Just a few more brief moments before they had to break the reverie that night gave them – just a few more moments before everything came crashing back to reality and Syed left to his _real _life.

But he couldn't stop it. He never could.

The sun continued to rise, just as it always would. The light filtered onto the bed, bathing Syed's sleeping form in a golden light that made his skin look – well – like caramel. Christian quickly suppressed that thought. The younger man shifted, his eyes squinting against the light as he arched his back; his whole body tensed as he stretched, every single sinew and muscle rippling at the surface before he hauled his body into a seated position.

"What time is it?"

Christian straightened his back, loosening the muscles in his face even as his spine set rigid.

"Don't worry," he smiled, sending a reassuring nod in Syed's direction. "You've got plenty of time."

"You've obviously forgotten who my mother is," Syed flashed a quick grin before swinging his legs out of bed, his whole body swimming in the light that rippled from the closed curtains. "She'll freak if I'm not back in time for the dawn chorus."

Somehow, Christian managed a laugh – even as he watched Syed scrambling with his clothes, dragging jeans up his legs and throwing on his shirt with a haste that was slightly heartbreaking. It was the speed that reminded Christian of just what he didn't have.

Real couples had time. All they had were the fleeting moments before the sun came up in the morning. It wasn't enough time. The greatest tragedy, Christian had long since decided, was that the brief time they had was ruined on sleep. He was willing to brave the madness in order to make the most of those hours – either way, it was a toss up which insanity was worse.

"Will I see you later?" he rubbed a hand across his own stubble, rising to his feet as Syed picked up his coat from the arm of the sofa. The younger man turned as a slight hint of internal desperation bled through into Christian's voice, the coat stopping halfway up his arms. He knew that 'later' didn't mean at work. Their eyes met for a brief second, a thousand volts of tension crackling across the room before Syed lowered his gaze.

"I…I'll have to see. Hopefully. I'll try my best," Syed's teeth sank into his lip, gnawing at the red flesh for a fleeting moment before his thumb came up to point at the door.

"I should be going," he finished pulling on his coat, drawing the zip up to his chin like a protective barrier. "I'll see you at the unit?"

There were a thousand things that Christian wanted to say at that moment – amongst them being 'don't leave', 'stay' and 'I can't deal with this' – but he settled instead for one word.

"Yeah."

The door had barely clicked shut behind his – was lover actually the right word? – before Christian had levelled his gaze accusingly at the light shimmering through the curtains. It didn't make any sense. He knew it was irrational. He _knew _that there was nothing forcing Syed to leave. But it was a damned sight easier to blame the sun for stealing him away – it was easier than having to accept that he left of his own volition every morning.

Christian hated the lack of control. He was like a vampire, his whole life controlled and dictated by the gradual turning of the sun. Syed was his until the sun came up. Then Christian retreated to his coffin. That was how it worked.

Scraping a hand through his hair, Christian did the only thing he could do.

He opened the curtains.

And then he tried to live.

x

x

**Fin**

* * *

_Thank you for reading! _

_All comments are most appreciated!  
_


End file.
